Coping Mechanisms
by TJ Dragonblade
Summary: The dark is only scary when you don't know how to deal with it. Gen; Anko, Tenzou. From the prompt 'Things that happen in Konoha at 3 am' on lj's naruto meme comm. Set in Konoha, maybe ten years ago.


Just past three in the morning, Anko slips out the window of her fourth-floor apartment and shimmies soundlessly up onto the roof. It's easy enough; she's done it dozens of times when she's had nights like this. They're less common now, when there are more years separating her from the past she only half-remembers, but they haven't faded completely yet and maybe they never will.

They aren't nightmares, not exactly, the things that still interrupt her sleep sometimes. She can't actually recall anything after jerking awake to the silent darkness, heart pounding and skin clammy. But there are fleeting impressions of images, sounds, sensations that leave her cold; there are phantom imprints of terror and confusion leftover just beneath her consciousness, and the mark on her neck burns. It leaves her unsettled, restless, and more than anything not wanting to be alone while the shadows whisper all around her.

It hadn't taken her long to get used to Konoha when they'd first brought her here; it had quickly become 'home' and has only grown to be more so in the years since. Navigating the familiar layout of buildings and thoroughfares in the warm summer dark is second nature, whether on the sleeping streets below or the starlit rooftops high above; she is swift and silent, little more than a shadow herself.

She heads for one of the utilitarian residential districts several blocks over that caters extensively to the quirks of Konoha's ANBU population, where floorplans take into consideration defensibility of all potential entry points, where the neighbors are generally understanding if the occasional stray shuriken winds up embedded in their front door. She lights on the roof of a six-story apartment complex much like her own and drops down over the edge, landing cat-like on an open fifth-floor windowsill.

She knows she's triggered the chakra alarm infused in the wooden frame but leans inside anyway, fully expecting the kunai that appears at her throat, and grins.

"Hey."

The kunai disappears, and Tenzou-she's gotten used to calling him that by now-blinks blearily at her, understanding smoothing the fierceness from his features and leaving them sleep-fogged again.

He's used to her showing up like this. He's been a constant in her life since she was brought to Konoha; it had been his job in the beginning to show her around the village (and to keep an eye on her until the elders decided she didn't pose any security risk, but she wasn't supposed to know that). They've been friends a long time by now, have bonded over many things as the years have gone on. They've got each other's backs, whatever the situation-especially concerning the threads of intangible shadow lurking in both their pasts.

There is something about surviving Orochimaru that leaves a trace of horrific kinship in its wake, even when neither of them can consciously remember what he's done to them; each of them knows the other understands what it means to wake in cold sweat and not know _why_, to feel exposed, alone, _vulnerable_ while the village sleeps on around them.

Tenzou makes a quiet little grunt in the eloquent language of the half-awake, draws back and jerks his head in invitation; Anko crawls in through his window and into his bed without another word. He climbs in behind her, not bothering to stifle his yawn. They squirm closer together, each turned outward, the warm length of his back pressed to hers; she faces the window, he faces the door, and they both close their eyes, secure in the trust that the shadows won't encroach past their united guard.

It's a ritual they've shared many times growing up, a holdover from their childhood that settles them both.

Anko is a fierce kunoichi, a fearless chuunin always striving for better than 'good enough' and never letting anything hold her back.

Tenzou is an exemplary shinobi, drafted into the elite ranks of the ANBU already, skillful and respected and steady in the face of danger.

But there is no shame for either of them in the comfort of sleeping with a friend at their back, in the childhood security that the nameless formless thing in the dark has little power if they face it together.


End file.
